Graveyard Of Heroes
by notyourleo
Summary: [remastered] When Percy Jackson went missing, his young mortal brother Peter Blofis is forced to go on a quest to find him. Set fifteen years after THO; OC-centric. Winner of The First Extreme Awards, and The Phoenix Award Round Eight.
1. Pinocle

_For Percy Jackson. Hero and brother._

* * *

><p><strong>Graveyard Of Heroes<strong>  
>or, <em>The Jackson Legacy<em>

* * *

><p><em>Part One: Nameless Finder<em>

* * *

><p><em>- One -<em>  
><em>Pinochle<em>

_**From: **__Annabeth Chase (chaseannabeth95 gmaildotcom)_

_**Subject:**__ re: dream about percy_

_Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141  
>Long Island, New York 11954 <em>

_Above is the address to Camp Half-Blood. Give it to the taxi driver. Come in the weekends, but tell your parents where you are going. We'll talk there, with Mr. D and Chiron. I'll be waiting for you._

_Sorry for the trouble, Peter. But this has to be discussed personally._

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. 5:36 am. Peter woke up and was greeted by the darkness of his room.<strong>

Everyone hated Mondays, even his father, but Peter was nervous and excited. Mostly scared, though. He checked the contents of his bag three or four times before leaving his bedroom. It contained his books, clothes enough for a week, and the money he saved in the last few years.

When he went to school, he placed all his books and notebooks in his locker. His hands shook as he drafted a text for his father during history class. He was going to come home late, and he was going to miss dinner. Peter wasn't going to send it right now, no. Classes were still going on, and his father was in the building.

During the last period of class—and holding onto his hall pass—he sneaked out of the school building, and whistled for a taxi. It was snowing outside. His jacket was in his bag, and he wanted so much to take it out. Before he could, a taxi parked in front of him, and he hopped in. He gave the address to the driver, and sent a text message to Annabeth Chase. It was the first time got out of Manhattan alone, with just the money he saved and the clothes he carried on his back.

When he knew the classes were over, he sent his father's text, leaned back on his seat, and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>It was a long smooth drive with barely any traffic, and Peter fell asleep and started to dream. All that time, the driver threw questionable glances at Peter through the mirror as they want farther and farther away from the city, but he didn't say a word. The sun was going down when they arrived. When the car stopped, Peter woke up with tears in his eyes.<p>

"Well, here we are," the taxi driver announced. He glanced around and scratched his stubble. "Are you sure this is the place in the address?"

Peter blinked and stifled a yawn. He shifted on his seat and looked out of the window. There was a large pine tree on top of a hill. If he remembered correctly, it would be the same one from the stories.

"Yeah." He grabbed his bag and fixed the tie of his school uniform. He paid the taxi driver—fare fee and tip for all the trouble driving out there—and got out. He stood there for a while watching the taxi return to the city, before turning around to face the hill. It didn't snow here, but the air was really cold. Peter set the bag down and took out his favorite maroon jacket.

Last night, he had read and re-read Annabeth Chase's email message over and over again, and gone to bed with a thumping heart. Camp Half-Blood. That one, safe haven his brother fondly told of in his stories to Peter. His brother's _fictional_ stories. Percy Jackson said they were not real. Camp Half-Blood was not real. It was a form of escape that he created all by himself. He loved mythology, and he imagined a world where the gods existed. Percy's stories were all in his head.

But here Peter was, stepping at the very same hill Percy and his friend Grover had climbed when they were chased by the Minotaur.

Peter wasn't the athletic type. When he was halfway up the hill, he was already out of breath. Up ahead, someone was waiting for him. When he reached the top, he was greeted by a sight of a sleeping dragon. It curled around the base of the large pine tree, snoring soundly, little puffs of smoke coming out of its nostrils. Hanging on a lower branch of a tree was a glowing fluffy fleece. _The Golden Fleece_, he thought, and he felt a lump in his throat. Percy got that. He and his friends got that from Polyphemus's island.

There was a woman waiting for him, around her early thirties. She was tall, with long blonde hair tied into a bun, but a few strips of her hair were loose at the back of her neck and forehead. She wore an orange T-shirt under a traveling coat. Her gray eyes were so bright Peter thought they were glowing.

"Um, hi," Peter greeted, albeit a bit timidly.

"You skipped school," she said, and crossed her arms. She didn't look pleased to see him, much to Peter's expectations. "I told you to come in the weekend."

"Sorry." He grinned sheepishly. His neck and shoulders were starting to ache from the heavy bag.

Annabeth sighed, and smiled at him. "You've grown, Peter. I'm surprised you still remember me after all these years. You used to call me Anna, when you were little." And he knew that she hated being called that, so he stopped, eventually. "How's your mother? Is she getting better?"

Peter rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb. He tried hard not to look down. "Great," he lied. "The doctors let her walk around. It's good for her legs." He looked over her shoulder, trying to see this Camp Half-Blood. But all he could see were the strawberry fields, a big farm house, and a beach at the distance.

"The pine tree maintains an invisible border," Annabeth said. "You're technically mortal, Peter, even if you are clear-sighted, and even if you are related to Percy. So you can't see the camp unless I let you see it."

"Oh." Peter sounded a bit disappointed. "So, like, can I see it?" He asked meekly.

"In a minute." Annabeth smiled again. "By the way, welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

* * *

><p>Peter didn't see the volleyball coming at him. He was too busy staring at his surroundings while following Annabeth. He saw the forest where they played capture the flag, the armory where they made, well, armor and weapons, and the stables where they kept the pegasi, which were empty for a the moment. But he definitely didn't see the volleyball court near him, and the ball came right down on his face. Peter stumbled and fell down to the ground, groaning.<p>

A tall boy ran to his side quickly, cursing under his breath. "Cheese and crust, I'm sorry!" He helped Peter up to his feet and brushed away the dirt from his clothes. "Gods, I'm really sorry. You okay?"

"I...I guess so," Peter said, still a bit dazed.

"Are you sure, pal?" the boy said. Peter nodded. "You a newbie?"

Peter patted away the dirt from his butt and looked at his direction. The boy had brown messy hair, darker than Peter's, and he was older, around fifteen or sixteen. He wore the same orange t-shirt like Annabeth.

Annabeth placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "He's a special guest here in Camp Half-Blood."

The boy nodded at Annabeth, and then grinned. "Cool. I'm Leon."

He offered a hand to shake, and Peter took it. "Peter."

"Nice. Make yourself at home, Peter. Since you're here, if you ever need a tour of Camp Half-Blood, you can always come to me."

"Yo, Leon!" someone in the volleyball court shouted. "We're going to continue the game without you if you're going to talk to them longer!"

"I'm coming!" he shouted back. "It's nice to meet you, Peter, and sorry for hitting you again." He looked at Annabeth. "I'm really sorry about that, Counselor." He smiled apologetically and ran back to the field, his friends shouting about how he was poor at controlling the ball.

He smiled back at Leon, and then something sank to him. He just spoke to a half-blood. To whose kid, he didn't know, but he spoke to a demigod. And Annabeth was a demigod. And his older brother, too. Heck, he was in a camp full of half human, half _gods_. They were real. They were very real, and he was seeing a large group of them right now.

He tripped for a second,but regained his foot quickly. Hehad gone deep into his thoughts that he wasn't watching his way.

"Are you okay?" Annabeth said. "Are you sure you don't feel dizzy or anything?"

"N-no, it's not that." Peter glanced around. "It's...it's nothing..."

Annabeth looked around too, and seemed to know what Peter was thinking. "Are you nervous, Pete?"

He didn't want to admit it, but he nodded timidly. "It's just that...I feel out of place. I'm not...one of you, you know. I feel...small."

Annabeth stared at him, then smiled sadly. "You're lucky, Peter. It's hard, for all of us. We may have some super powers, have access to magical things, know magical secrets, but...every one of us wishes for a normal, happy life." She looked wistful. "You know, a typical life where you have a normal, stable family, go to a normal school, have normal friends. Where you are someone who you wished to be, in a life where you don't have to fight monsters everyday…"

Peter shivered. _Monsters_. They existed, too. He could see them. He _saw_ them, when he was little, but he thought it was all just his imagination. But they were real. Since he saw them, had they seen him, too? Could they see him now? Was that why Percy was always around him? To protect him?

"This is the Big House," Annabeth said. Peter looked up to the large farmhouse that was painted purple. They climbed to the porch. There was a small table in the middle, with four people gathered around it in an intense game of cards. Annabeth approached one of the players. "He's here, Chiron."

The man was in a wheelchair. He had a scruffy brown beard, thinning hair, and wore a camp tee under a coat. There was a blanket on his lap. He looked up from his cards and smiled at Peter. "Hello, Peter." He gestured to the bench near the table. "Please, take a sit. Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"Uhh..." He didn't know how to respond for a second. He was talking to Chiron. _Chiron._ He couldn't find thewords to speak, not even a yes or a no. So he nodded, sitting down on the bench. Chiron looked at Annabeth, who disappeared inside the house.

The silence was filled with cards shuffling, someone coughing. There was something...powerful about each of them. It was making Peter dizzy. He sat on his seat awkwardly and waited for his drink or for someone to speak. A man with a tiger-patterned sweater smiled down at his cards. He looked like he was in a pleasant mood.

"I guess you have already heard the basics from your brother. About...what you're seeing right now," Chiron started. "But you wouldn't mind if I could explain a few things?"

"No, sir," Peter said. "I don't mind."

Annabeth returned with a drink of hot chocolate for Peter. While he sipped it, Chiron filled in the details that Percy had left out of his stories – how the Camp Half-Blood was only one safe corner in their world of gods of the western civilization, how the myths were their reality. Peter felt like he was trespassing into a world he didn't belong in, but he couldn't help feeling _special_. Few mortals knew what they were living in. But he knew that this knowledge was dangerous – he could be in danger for just knowing all that. Demigods, with all their superpowers, were still in a constant run for life. Where did that put him, just a mortal with eyes that saw too much?

"So, Peter," Chiron said. He was staring at a distance. "You told us that you know where Percy Jackson is."

The tiger-shirted man, Mr. D, suddenly sneezed and a strong gust of wind blew the cards away from the table. The other players were too stunned to notice the cards swept away to the floor, or their hair pushed back from their faces, their clothes ruffled.

Mr. D regained himself and glared at Peter. He sure wasn't in his pleasant mood now. "What are you talking about?" He sneered. Peter cringed. "This boy...he knows it? A mortal? Him?"

Peter wanted to move away from him. According to Percy, it was not cool to anger Dionysus, no matter how angry you were to him.

"Give him some space," said one of the players, a handsome man with an olive complexion. "He is, after all, Percy Jackson's half-brother."

"But a mortal, nonetheless," said the fourth player, a woman wearing a silver jacket.

"_Boy_," Mr. D stressed. "What do you mean you _know_ where he is?"

"I-I..." Peter couldn't find the words to say. Everyone was staring at him, and itmade him uneasy. "I t-think I know where he is."

"You _think_?"

"I-I had a dream yesterday," Peter stuttered. His hands shook as he held his mug tightly. He wasn't nervous about talking to powerful beings, but rather, he was scared that they would zap at him any moment, if he said the wrong word. "I-It wasn't a normal dream. I swear it wasn't. I know it wasn't. He was really there. He was...talking to me." Why were they staring at him so hard? "He was telling me to find this place, telling me to find him, because…because he's in trouble... I don't know what he's talking about. He said he's in an unreachable place, that even the gods can't find, except for a chosen few, and… I'm one of them," he mumbled in the end.

The sun was going down, and the first star appeared. The people around him didn't speak for a moment, looking at each other.

The woman leaned back onher chair. "Is he talking about _that_ place, Ganymede?"

"Impossible, Atlanta, _that_ place doesn't exist. It's just a little story started by two demigods almost ten years ago. You know, _those two_."

At this, Mr. D groaned and placed his cards down the table. "Yes, those two."

"I bring drinks to the Olympians," Ganymede continued. "I hear what they discuss about, and they don't believe that either. Are you actually believing them, Atlanta?" Ganymede laughed, but it was a nervous one.

"Wait, wait," Annabeth said. "What place are you talking about?"

"The spiritual core of the world," Atlanta said. "Maybe even the universe. In it are creation's deepest, darkest secrets. But it is also the graveyard of heroes. They say those who seek it—mortal, demigod, even a god—never returned. Disappeared _completely_. Their souls—if they died—never went to the land of Hades. Only a permitted few have come and gone, and we don't know who they are, or who are the ones giving permission. It's pure fiction."

"It sounds like the Christians' perception of Heaven," Mr. D said. He waved his hand, and a cup of grape juice appeared, which he held and looked down at.

"The two demigods called it 'the sanctuary'," Ganymede said. "But it is now known as _Nameless _by the gods."

"Do you mean Percy went there?" Annabeth said. "He went looking for it? And that's why he's missing?"

"We're not exactly sure Percy is in there, not even sure why," Chiron said. "We cannot confirm it. We cannot confirm if _Nameless_ is real in the first place. But this coming from his family..." He looked at Peter. There was something in his eyes that Peter couldn't place. "This is something we need to discuss first." Chiron turned his gaze at Annabeth, who nodded at him.

They must be agreeing on something secretly, but Annabeth said, "If the Council relents, this is going to be one of those quests, right? The one that happens only every one hundred years?"

"Yes." Chiron stroked his beard. "And our friend here, Peter, might lead it."

Peter's heart almost froze. "I...I'm sorry?" He came here to tell them what he knew about Percy, and he hoped that he would leave it to them to figure out. He wasn't ready for a quest.

"We're not sure of everything right now, Peter," Annabeth said. "What you told us is a dream. It's an unusual dream yes, but you're a mortal. It's credible because you're Percy's brother, but not credible enough."

"Not...credible enough?" Peter said.

"But if everything's laid out, you might go on a quest." She looked wary. "Unless everything is false alarm or you don't want to go."

"I...I don't know." He was dizzy. What was he going to say now? Normally he would turn it down, tell them that he didn't think he was going to survive in this quest, much less be _fine_ after going through it. "Being a half-blood is dangerous," Percy said to him once. It was amazing how Peter still knew the words. "It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways."

And yet, he wanted to go through it. Go on a quest. Go experience the thrill, the dangers. Try to get killed in painful, nasty ways. Being a half-blood sucked, yeah, Percy told him a lot of times. But despite that, Peter wanted to be one. It was crazy, he was insane, he was a dreamer. But what Percy said made it sound like being a half-blood was c_ool_, not sucky or dangerous.

He loved Percy's stories. He remembered vividly the details Percy told him when he went on a quest to retrieve the master bolt, to find the Golden Fleece, to carry the world on his shoulders, when he explored the Labyrinth, and him defeating the titan lord Kronos.

Maybe Peter's mind would change when he went through it all. But that was okay. If everything turned out okay, he would see his older brother again.

He just had to say yes or no to this.

Ganymede rubbed his head. "So, are we all agreeing that Percy Jackson isn't dead? Just missing?"

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><p><em>AN: So we're a few days early to this story's third anniversary. ;D Here it is, the revised first chapter, written from scratch. A huge thank you to Hazelle More who gave this story a light beatdown to make it a bit acceptable to editors and grammar nazis. :)  
><em>

Next Chapter: **People Before** **Me** - Just what is this Hundred Year Quest? Why is there such a thing? Peter Blofis meets Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and she seems to know some answers.

_Edit: Either I'm really blind or FFN's editor's wacko. Fixed a couple of close-knitted words and mistakes._


	2. People Before Me

_Two_  
><em>- People Before Me -<em>

_Messages - Inbox _

_**From**: dad (xxx xxx xxxx)_

_peter, where are u? pls explain. And u better be home tonite. ur mother will worry_

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><p><strong>There was only one clear-sighted mortal living in Camp Half-Blood<strong>, and she was the current Oracle of Delphi. Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Peter remembered her in Percy's stories. He liked her, and he liked how she was willing to sacrifice a lot of things for the good of the world. He didn't know her in real life, but he was excited to meet her for the first time.

"You'll have to stay overnight," Annabeth said as they made their way to up to a hill not too far from the cabins. "A meeting will be held with the Council of Cloven Elders in the morning, to discuss about the search for Percy. If there's anything to come by, I'll tell you."

"Okay," he said. He vaguely remembered hearing about the Council in Percy's story, but he forgot most of the details. "Do I have to attend too?"

"You don't have to. We're just making plans for the quest, that's all. I have to attend because I'm an honorary member." They stopped in front of a menacing-looking cave, with red curtain draping the entrance. "This is it." She lifted the curtains and went inside. Peter considered for a moment, took a deep breath and followed.

The cave was like an art museum. A bright lantern lit the whole room. The cave walls were lined with painted canvases and sketches. Surrealistic art and childish graffiti decorated the room. There was a bed and a laptop tucked on one corner, a stereo and music player on the other. A sink and a mirror besides the entrance. Electricity and plumbing in this place. There were more mess in the cave that Peter couldn't name it all.

"Rachel's not here," Annabeth said, looking around. "Well, you can stay and wait here, Peter. She'll be here soon, I know."

"No, no, I'm here," said a muffled voice from outside. Then a woman entered. She was a beautiful lady with long dark red hair tied into a flowery bun, and it reminded Peter of a rose. She had bright green eyes, and freckles that ran across the bridge of her nose. She was tall, like Annabeth. She wore a winter cloak over a woman's business outfit. "Annabeth!" she said happily, hugging her friend. "I haven't seen you for a long time! Heard you're going to come back today, so I had to leave work early. How's the excavation in Alaska?"

Annabeth let go of her friend and grinned at her. "It's good, it's going well, we're bound to find something in the ruins soon. There's a lot of Roman supplies that could be salvaged and reused. We're bringing them to Camp Jupiter, because those guys know what do with them than us."

"I heard we have a new guy in the camp," Rachel said. "Is he a camper? Determined or undetermined?"

"He's not a camper. But the new guy, he's right here." She looked behind to Peter, and it was only then that Rachel noticed him.

Peter shuffled on his feet, and looked at them sheepishly. "Hi."

"Rachel, this is Peter," Annabeth said. "He's clear-sighted, like you."

The woman's eyes brightened. "A mortal?" She looked at him real hard, her eyes scanning Peter like a metal detector. "Is this him?" She said slowly.

Annabeth nodded. "His brother."

The woman looked like she wanted to squeal. "What a cute boy. Much more cuter than in the baby photos Percy showed me. I'm Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Call me Rachel, I'm really comfortable being on first-name basis with friends. Tell me Peter, how old are you?"

"Uhh, thirteen."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Would you mind if he could stay here for one night?" Annabeth interrupted. "There's going to be a meeting held at the forest in the morning to discuss about him and, well, Percy. "

Rachel was still considering a decision when a horn blew somewhere in a distance. "Let's talk about it at the pavilion, can we?" Rachel said. "I'm hungry already."

* * *

><p>Peter only sat when he watched the camp traditions carry on without him. The campers in the dining pavilion raised their goblets and cheered. Then they stood up, bringing their plates with them, and made a line to the firepit, scrapping a portion of the food to the firepit. Peter sat besides Rachel, and Annabeth was in another table, where she and the other Pinocle players were talking. Chiron and Mr. D was there, too. He wondered what they were talking about, but he probably got the gist of it when a few them glanced at him.<p>

Rachel took out a new pair of steel chopsticks from her pocket. "I feel like eating some nice Chinese noodles right now. If not, how about the best kind of sushi out there?" She looked at the plate hopefully, as if she was waiting for what she just requested. Nothing happened. She sighed. "I'm on some kind of special diet," she said, more to herself, but he thought she might be talking to him, too. "I...I got some health problems to fix it. Alright, I want some Caesar salad with my favorite dressings," she mumbled regrettably.

Peter's phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked around for a moment before taking out and looking at it from under the table. It was his dad. And he was angry with him. Peter composed another apology and sent it, promising to call him first thing in the early morning. He felt guilty of leaving his father alone in their home. And his mother...

His heart ached. It was less than a day and he was already missing his family, his friends. He pushed all this thoughts back and ate his barbeque to distract himself.

When everyone finished eating, Chiron made an announcement, reminding the campers that Capture The Flag would happen in two days. Cabin Eleven would present the laurels. Then he addressed the fresh rumor of a new camper, telling them that it was just Peter, who was mortal and a guest and would stay for the night or more nights, and if it was the latter, it would be kind to show him around by the campers, and don't forget to be nice to him and don't introduce him to the hogs, or they will be punished severely, said Chiron.

After dinner, they all went to the amphitheater. Peter watched the bonfire rise and change colors as all the campers sang with their unusual songs and lyrics, holding hands. Peter only slumped in his seat and looked around him. He was the most tired person in this place. Camp Half-Blood was surely a magical place for demigods and his brothers, but it was not for Peter.

* * *

><p>"Don't you feel awkward sleeping in the same room with an older girl?" Rachel grinned as she moved to her bed. Peter was brushing his teeth at a nearby bathroom sink that was situated near the cave entrance. He was sleeping on the floor, with a mattress tucked in a corner, far from Rachel's bed, blanket and pillows neatly stacked on each other.<p>

"Not really." Peter spat out the toothpaste. "I'm more afraid that they would feel awkward with me around." He gargled water, spat, and wiped his mouth with his face towel that was hanging on his neck. "I know I won't do any harm."

Rachel sported this Cheshire Cat grin that made Peter's skin crawl, like she was the one who was going to do the harm part. "What a gentleman. You didn't answer my question earlier, Peter. Have you had a girlfriend?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm not really interested in girls." He didn't know why. Normally kids his age would start talking about dating and girl crushes, now that they had entered teenagehood and all that, but he was just too buried with school work and his hobbies, like skating, reading, and microblogging. He then realized that his sentence could be misinterpreted, and Rachel's grin stretched. "Not interested in_ dating_ girls _now,_" he said, hastily.

She laughed. Then she reached down under her bed and pulled out a couple of sketchbooks and flat boxes. For a brief moment, Peter saw a red tattoo at the side of her neck. "Since I have company tonight, would you like me to take you to a tour of the past and the future?"

He smiled. "That sounds interesting." He sat on the floor cross-legged besides her bed. Rachel flipped through her older sketches, which was kept in the boxes. She told him that they were done when she was only a teenager. Each drawing, each sketch had a story behind it, and it was mostly stories from the Titan War, stories that were tied to Percy's adventures.

She showed her a black-and-white portrait sketch of young Percy Jackson.

"Why are there holes?" Peter asked, pointing at a group of tiny black dots on his brother's nose. He shivered when he first spotted them. He didn't like seeing punctured holes grouped together closely.

"Oh, that's—" she laughed nervously. "—that's nothing, Peter, ignore it."

Despite the small damages on the portrait, there was his older brother, young and alive, showing a brave and determined face. He was a natural, looking like that.

"How long have you been staying here?" Peter asked he as he leafed through the pages of an old sketchbook.

She shrugged. Rachel reached out to one of her sketchpads and flipped to a blank page. "I'm not sure. I moved in here after I graduated from college—Master's Degree, yeah. But when I was your age, I stayed here at camp over the summer and winter breaks, like Annabeth and the rest of my friends. Apollo built this cave for me, one time when I was away. I really thought he was joking, but hey."

"You're really talented."

"Thank you." She beamed at him. "Now, can you stay still for a couple of minutes? You can still look at the sketches, don't worry."

"Okay." Peter couldn't help but fix his messy hair, and he felt shy, being drawn._ I'm getting a portrait of myself,_ he thought, and now he was grinning shyly to himself. It was quiet for a while, the sound of Rachel's pencil scratching the paper a soft rhythm to Peter's ears. "Do mortals usually go on quests?"

She was making circle motions in the paper. "No, not really. In very special cases, they can accompany demigods in quests, but that's very rare. We have the Hundred-Year Quest that happens, well, every one hundred years. This is not known to the demigods, not known in general. In fact, it's actually top secret."

"Have you known about it for a long time?"

"No, but I read a whole history about the people who took on the Hundred Year Quest before you."

"There's..." Peter swallowed. "There's a history? This is recorded?"

Rachel nodded, tapping the butt of her pencil on her chin. "There's a poor Jewish boy from Israel, 1924. Then a posh painter guy from France, 1824. Then a queer princess from Japan, 1724."

"It's not just here in Camp Half-Blood?"

"Yeah, but I don't know why it jumps around. It may be because our gods are jumping from one powerful nation to another, before it was the United States. But Hundred-Year Quests are not appointed by the gods or some more powerful being. It all started just like any other quests. So, really, what makes them special? But one thing in common in all the quests is that they're super dangerous, and steered the world to many major changes."

She put down the pencil, leaned down the bed, and rested her chin on the back of her hand. "Now I wonder what a middle-class white boy from New York, 2024, will bring us."

_She's scaring me, _he thought. He managed a nervous chuckle. Rachel smiled widely, reached out and patted his shoulder. "Sorry about that, boyo. It just sucks that we're being kept in the dark, both of us. We can see through the Mist, but we don't have super powers so we don't deserve to know all the good stuff."

Peter only nodded, still shaken about the new knowledge she had given him, and the weight on his shoulder was heavier than before.

"If you think you're being kept in the dark," he said. "How did you find Camp Half-Blood?"

"Percy and Annabeth found me," she answered. "It's really Percy, but it's a long, long story that your brother probably have told you." Peter smiled at this.

He scanned through more pages of the sketchbook, taking in the images. Landscapes and skyscrapers. Sketches of winged horses and large hounds. The faces of Percy and Annabeth and maybe some of his brother's friends, too.

There was one picture that had his attention longer than the rest. It was a sketch of a teenage boy and a little girl. The boy was kneeling, gazing up to the girl, his whole figure frayed, his clothes singed. He looked like a hero from a shounen manga, all bloody and beaten up. He looked desperate, as if he was begging for something really important. It was a black and white sketch, but the boy's eyes were colored blue.

It made Peter put a hand on his own eye.

The little girl was dressed in shawls. She looked down to the boy, her face bored, unreadable. She carried an aura of authority, of someone in higher position.

"It's a vague memory," Rachel started, seeing that he was interested with the picture. "It happened back during the Titan War. I was being held to safety in the throne room on Olympus with a goddess when someone busted in. We thought it was Kronos, neither it was Percy, yet for some reason, that person almost felt like him. Then I realized it was just a demigod."

Peter looked up to Rachel, not removing the hand from his face.

"He looked like he was ready to collapse," she continued. "I thought he was going to, because of his state. But he ran up to the goddess, got down on his knees, and he started demanding something from her. I kept thinking, maybe he was from Kronos's army, and he was going to harm the goddess if he didn't get whatever he wanted. There was a long, aggressive discussion between them. But I couldn't remember anything after that. It was all a blur. Before I knew it, the titan lord was defeated. The war was over.

"Whatever they were talking about, it helped me set my decision to become the Oracle of Delphi." Rachel stopped scribbling. She turned the sketchbook to him. "What do you think?"

Peter stared. It was a portrait of him surrounded by sketchbooks, holding one, too. His eyes were half-closed, looking down at the pictures on the paper. He looked sad.

He grinned, but it was painful. His jawline felt like it was about to rip. "Love it. Thank you."

She smiled back, and the smile reminded him of his mother.

* * *

><p>Peter got up at 5:45 in the morning. He walked down the forest with Annabeth at 6. Regardless of the snowfall last night that marked the true beginning of winter, it looked like it didn't happen at all. It looked more like spring than winter. Percy said the forest had monsters in it, and it was his least favorite place in Camp, but it didn't look like it. He also said that anyone entering the forest should at least carry a weapon. Annabeth came with none. "Don't worry about it," she said. "At this time of the morning, the monsters are asleep. You really don't want to come?"<p>

Peter shook his head. "I'll stick around here and wait for you."

"I see. Well, even though there's no danger being here, it's technically not safe, okay? You go get some breakfast at the pavilion. Try to talk to the campers. Make friends." Peter looked skeptical, but she laughed and patted his shoulder. "Just try, okay? You'll be fine here."

They went to an area where the sunlight seeped through the large trees. They've entered a grove, and nymphs were coming out from their homes. Peter couldn't help but stare at them. They were all beautiful creatures.

Annabeth stopped on her tracks. Peter was following closely behind, so he bumped into her. "Sorry," they said in unison. But Annabeth was looking not at him or their way, but to the left. He followed her gaze. There was a young tree among taller, older trees. Light shone brightly on it, almost like a dramatic spotlight. Annabeth walked towards it, and Peter followed her.

"Peter," Annabeth started, when they stood near the small tree. "Meet Grover Underwood."

The cold wind blew past the trees. The nymphs were making their way to the small creek flowing nearby.

A lump rose up to Peter's throat. "Grover?"

Annabeth touched one of the leaves of the tree, but didn't pluck it out. "Grover. Percy's best friend. When satyrs die, they become plants. Saps. Trees. Percy and Grover have an empathy link. They're connected to each other. If one of them dies, the other side of the line will die, too."

"Grover's...dead?" Peter knew about the empathy link. But only yesterday did he realize that the stories Percy told were real. He faintly remembered Grover Underwood, but the memories of him were distant. "Does that mean Percy is dead, too? Like Ganymede said? But I thought.."

"Not really, Pete." Annabeth withdrew her hand. "When Percy went missing, we looked everywhere for him. High and low. Inside the country, outside the country. I was with Grover and a few of our friends. One day, here in camp, Grover suddenly fainted in the middle of the strawberry fields when he was playing with his pipe. He came down with a high fever, went into this deep coma for a long time. The Council saw that—while his health wasn't failing—he was going deeper and deeper into a limbo. The brain functioned so little his body thought he was dead and..." She crouched down to the tree, so they were height-to-height. "This happened."

Somewhere, a tree nymph was watching from afar, but when Peter looked, she disappeared.

"I'm really sorry to hear about Grover," Peter said. "I remember him, not a lot though, but Percy tells a lot of stories about him."

"Grover is alive." Annabeth stood up again. "The Council themselves sense it. The Lord of the Wild can't just die. Percy is out there, probably in the same coma as well. And if the Council approves of you, in the next few days there will be a quest to find Nameless and you will lead it."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I didn't tell you guys in the previous chapter that the original fifteen chapters of Graveyard Of Heroes (formerly The Jackson Legacy) is still available in my FFN profile. I do not recommend that you read that if you don't want to wait for the next chapter, because there are a lot of changes in this revised version. Also, for those who know the story but still want to re-read it, please refrain from spoilers in your reviews. It is also tradition to make a sneak peek of the next chapter, which is written below._

Next Chapter: **Third Member** - Peter makes friends in Camp Half-Blood and gets to experience what is life for the demigods living there. All is short-lived when Annabeth summons him to the Big House to give him the details of his quest.


	3. Deadly Volleyball

_Three_  
><em>- Deadly Volleyball -<em>

_RECIPIENT: ANNABETH CHASE  
>LOCATION: CAMP HALF-BLOOD<br>PROCESSING REQUEST...  
>STANDBY...<br>INCOMING IRIS MESSAGE_

_- Hi, Annabeth. -  
>- Sorry about the wonky connection -<br>- - please dont freak out - -  
>- <em>still_ alive, okay, and I know you're really angry at me right now -  
>- - - but I heard you have someone looking for... well that place - -<br>- mind if I take him under my wings? - -  
>- I think I might have what he needs -<em>

* * *

><p>"<strong>Heads up!" Leon shouted,<strong> as some kids on his side of the court backed to the service line.

When one of the base players of the blue tea —received the volley ball and passed it to the net players, one of them, a fierce-looking girl shouted, "Mine!". She jumped and spiked it to the other side of the court.

The speed of the ball was staggering, nobody in the front would be able to catch it, but it had hit Peter clean in the face.

The referee blew the whistle, signaling a point to Leon's blue team. Peter fell on his back.

"YEAH!" the fierce girl exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air.

"Time out!" one of Peter's team mate shouted. "His nose's bleeding."

"I think he's got a black eye, too." Another one said.

The blue team broke away, but Leon ran to the other side of the court, where the red team gathered around Peter. They moved him to a place where he could sit, a large tree log that was hollowed into an outdoor bench. Peter couldn't see himself, but from the faces of his team mates, he must have looked bad.

"Beatrice, look what you've done!" The one who called the time-out, Carrie, shouted over her shoulder. "Your spike was too hard! You know that Peter can't take ambrosia or nectar. This might take days or weeks to heal for him!"

Beatrice puts her hands up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I got a little carried away. But seriously, if he can't take the pain, why are we letting him play with us?"

"Beatrice!" Almost all of the red team shouted at her.

"It's okay," Peter muttered, standing up. "I'm okay, but I don't want to play anymore."

"But..." Carrie looked conflicted.

It was hard to talk. His cheeks were puffing up. "I love to play with you guys, but my right eye feels like its swelling already."

"I'll take him to the Apollo cabin," Leon said. "Find someone who can fix him."

They helped Peter stand up, and Leon placed a hand on his shoulder and stirred him away from the court. The sun was sinking slowly on the west. Kids were running past Peter and Leon, and pegasi flew overhead. The sound of laughter echoed.

"Why aren't we going in the infirmary instead?" Peter managed to say. Moving his face, whether it was blinking or speaking, hurt so much. He felt pulpy.

"Because the infirmary is in the Big House," Leon said. "And in the Big House that's where Chiron and Counselor Chase are. And if Chiron or Counselor Chase see you in this condition, see you that you're a tiny bit hurt because of us demigods, then we're _all_ doomed. _All_ of us."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Beatrice's a jerk. "

Leon was nice and friendly. He was the one who gave Peter a tour of the Camp Half-Blood. He was undetermined, a year-rounder. He talked a lot, which wasn't bad. Peter wasn't really a conversationalist, but he liked that Leon didn't leave anything hanging between them; he was easy to talk with.

"Hey, Leon," Peter said. "How long have you been staying here?"

Leon looked up, making a 'hmmmm' sound. "My whole life, I guess."

Peter glanced at him. "Why?"

"I don't have a mortal parent."

They passed the canoe lake, where the naiads weaved baskets. One whispered something to another in naiad language, and everyone giggled.

"I mean, I _do_ have a mortal parent," Leon continued. "But they left me when I was like two or three years old. In the middle of a park in Manhattan, when the Titan war was happening. Argus said that I was brought in here by a demigod, and I remember him, but not clearly. Didn't even catch his name."

"You were in the Titan war?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah, but like I said, I was little, I don't remember much."

They were approaching the cabins. Fewer people were here, other than teenagers gathered around a smaller fireplace, one kid playing a guitar while the rest sang. They walked towards the Apollo cabin and Leon peered inside. "Dang, no one's home."

From the corner of Peter's eye, he saw a girl coming to them. "Hey, Leon," the girl called.

Leon looked at her direction, made a face that said _Oh great, you_. "There you are! The person I'm looking for!"

The girl crossed her arms. She had short red hair that rested on her shoulders, green eyes, and freckles on her cheeks. She wore a thick jacket over her camp t-shirt, and a necklace with a silver cross around her neck. "It's nice to see you, too, Leon. But I have a message for Peter Blofis, and I've been looking for him everywhere in the camp. "

Peter felt some kind of tension between them, and it wasn't a good tension. He wanted to run and find someone else to fix his face.

The girl turned to Peter, and was about to speak when her eyes widened. "Holy—What happened to you?"

"Beatrice happened," Leon said. "Got a little rough on Peter. Now help me out here and get him fixed."

"Counselor Chase is calling for Peter Blofis in the Big House. She said she wants to talk about something. If she sees him...like this..."

"That's right, we're doomed, so help us."

She was sneering at Leon, but she offered a hand to Peter. "My name's Claire."

He took her hand. "Peter, as everyone knows me."

Claire managed a smile. "Alright, let's get you covered enough that the counselor won't notice anything happened."

* * *

><p>"Your mother called, Peter."<p>

He would rather be hit by a hundred volley balls by Beatrice than hear those words from Annabeth. Those words hurt more than the nose bleed and black eye he received. Peter couldn't look up to her, only stared at his lap.

"You left home and skipped school without your parents knowing where you are, leaving no note or didn't even ask permission. Your mother called me to ask if I had any idea where you are, because you didn't tell them where you ran off to."

"I...I sent a text to my dad..."

"_Peter."_

He flinched and shrunk in his seat. "I'm sorry."

Annabeth rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I would send you home right away if you aren't going in a quest tomorrow, Peter. An important quest. I really wish you could have say something to your parents before this."

"I'll call Mom and Dad," Peter said meekly. "After this. I promise."

"Peter." Annabeth sat down on a seat across him. "I don't think you understand what your parents are feeling right now, especially your mother."

"I think I know what they're feeling."

"No, you _don't_ know."

Peter winced. Annabeth sighed, softened her voice. "Pete," she started slowly. " Before you were born, when your brother was around your age, he went through so many quests—and you know that, Pete. But do you have any idea how _dangerous_ those adventures are? Percy almost got _killed_ so many times, I'm not exaggerating. And all this time, when Percy was away, your mother stayed at home, trying to go on as normally as possible in her life, worrying to death."

Peter remained silent.

"You have to understand this, and I'm going to be honest with you." Annabeth leaned forward. "You might die, Peter. Of course you're mortal and most things won't probably affect you. Monsters won't attack you, and our weapons won't harm you. But what if the enemy wields a gun? Or someone stabs you with a normal steel knife? Scales will grab you, teeth will bite you. This isn't your normal fantasy book."

"I-I know, but..."

"I know you know. I'm not scaring you, Peter. But this is the truth, and if you want to don't want to continue, that's fine."

"But...what about Percy?"

Annabeth casts her eyes down to the floor. "As much as I want him back, if you can't take on the quest, we understand, really."

Peter hesitated. He felt the weight of this quest ever since people had been pressuring him to be the next mortal to take on the Hundred-Year Quest. But now it was more heavier than before. "A-Annabeth...I'm not saying I want to back out, I'll still go with the quest. I want to find Percy, really, even if it scares me. I'll call Mom and Dad. If they call you, tell them not to worry, please."

Annabeth managed a small, sad smile. "Alright. But this is not the real reason why I called you here, Peter. I have some news for you, actually. Some leads, head starts for your quests.

"To get you started, one of our contacts volunteered to go and investigate the Underworld again, to see if...if Percy's soul is there. And another iris-messaged me informing me that he has all the information you need to get you a real head start in your quest. But the information is...sensitive and valuable. He wants to talk to you personally, and that means you're going to Wichita, where he's currently based right now. When you get there, he's going to pick you up to bring you to safety, and you can discuss more details on your quest."

"Okay," Peter said. "Who's he?"

Annabeth bit her lip. "I can't tell you. At least, I can't tell you his real name."

"Why not?"

"I don't have permission."

Peter wasn't following. "What permission?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed. "Peter, has Percy told you another story? Of him against the primordial deities?"

"N-no, he didn't." This was the first time he heard it. _He battled more gods? Higher gods_?

"When you were still in your mother's womb, there was another war that followed shortly after the war against the Titans. Much bigger. We fought the mothers and fathers of the titans, the gods that truly created the universe."

Peter leaned closer, hoping to hear more of this bigger war that happened before he was born.

But Annabeth didn't look like she was going to tell the tale. "Our side won, in the end. After that, monsters cowered from us, more demigods were able to find their way safely to the camps. Life had become easier for us. Until Percy went missing.

"With Percy out of the picture, the danger is twice than before. The monsters, which were not a problem before, doubled in numbers, doubled their intent to kill. Since he disappeared, we're trying to save as many half-bloods as we could before they were slaughtered, eaten, crushed. And it isn't just the kids, Peter. I'm in danger, too.

"All the demigods who fought in the war, who survived and grew up, are hiding. Some of us are already dead. Others may still be alive, but we try not to check up on each other as much as possible. It's too risky. This is one of the only places in the world that could keep us safe. Camp Half-Blood will always welcome us. But we're not children anymore. We have to keep moving to prevent anything bad happening to our homes, to the people we love. We have to leave our families to keep them safe. We don't have a permanent home, Peter."

Annabeth took a shaky breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. "I'm sorry."

Peter looked away politely. He wasn't the only one affected by his brother's disappearance. Family mattered to Annabeth. Maybe that was why she was so angry at him for leaving his parents without a note or a say.

She sighed again. "Anyways, we can't change it," she continued. "The reason why I can't tell you my friend's name is because names have power. Everyone here knows that. Shout Zeus's name, then watch the sky crack with lightning. My friend, the contact that will assist you in your quest, has fought in the same war. Saying his name when he's not around or when you don't have his permission, will make the monsters go nuts and chase him. What makes matters worse is that he's rooted in his own place, unlike most of us who always have to go from one place to another."

"So, this...name calling thing," Peter inquired. "Instead of giving you power, they give you trouble."

"Sadly, yes." Annabeth nodded. "Our names have been cursed. But not all half-bloods are cursed. Only us."

This made Peter look back at the time he arrived in Camp Half-Blood, skimmed through his memories if he ever called Annabeth in moments that he wasn't supposed to. "When you mean permission, what does it mean? How do you do it?"

"Simple, Peter. You ask the person if you could call them by their name. Usually, they're the one giving you permission, but ask if it's needed."

"I understand."

Annabeth's smile was wider now. Less sad. "Now that we know where you're going to go, the next thing we'll worry about is how to get there, and we're going to use the mall passages."

"The mall passages?"

Annabeth nodded. "It's unsafe to travel by air now. You've seen the local news; there were cases of

airplane crashes because half-bloods were on board. We don't know why Zeus is smiting planes of the sky, but we learn not to question him. So the only means for a safer journey is by land or sea. But many years ago, children of the Underworld build passages underground, passages that connect through all of the country's states, including Alaska and as far as Hawaii. The entrances to these passages are hidden inside shopping malls, and that's no place for a demigod."

"But I'm not a demigod," Peter said. "I can ride an airplane, and nothing will happen to me."

"You aren't. But you'll have to go with people who are. Standard quests rules, Peter."

"Oh." He was afraid that he was going to go alone. It relieved him a bit that he wasn't. "Right. Thank you. But why dangerous?"

"Because it's packed with plenty of monsters."

Now Peter wished he was going alone. "But why hide the entrances inside shopping malls when it's dangerous?"

"Malls are also a place full of mortals, as it is with monsters. The mortals' scents can disguised the demigod's own scent. If you're lucky enough, you can pass by without getting noticed." Annabeth stood up from her seat. "Tomorrow, Argus will escort you and your quest mates to the nearest mall, and at that point, you're on your own. Is there someone in camp who you trust enough to come with you?"

This felt like a big decision. He knew at least a dozen of demigods here by name. But he didn't know their skills and abilities, what they're capable to do. Their pros and their cons. "How about Leon?"

"Leon of the Hermes cabin?"

"I know him better than the rest of the camp," Peter said sheepishly. "I'm comfortable around him."

Annabeth rubbed her chin for a moment. "Of course. Having Leon with you means better cooperation in the team, especially if you two trust each other. He hasn't gone to any quests yet. So my advise is that our third member has to be an experienced camper. Do you know someone else—a friend maybe—who you're comfortable with and told you anything about their quests, adventures? I know there are a lot of kids who went to quests."

Peter thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"That's alright, Peter. Is it alright if I assign the third member for you?"

"Okay."

"Tomorrow, Peter. You can go now, meet you in dinner. Better rest up, and sleep early. "

Peter couldn't help but smile. He stood up from his seat when Annabeth turned her back towards him. He made his way to the door, then stopped. "Can't you come with me in this quest?"

Annabeth looked back. "I can't, Peter. I have to go back to Alaska soon, and I have my own missions. But contact us, and we'll try our best to help you out."

"Thank you. One more thing, Annabeth? Do...do I get a prophecy for my quest? I mean, whenever there's a quest, there's a prophecy to guide or warn the people going."

Annabeth rubbed her arms and sighed. "Yeah, that's true. But for you and your quest, Peter, there's no prophecy. The Oracle or the Fates won't tell you what happens. You're on your own."


End file.
